Part one: Dol Guldur
by LikeIdTellU
Summary: Legolas is captured by orcs at a very young age. Thranduil and his son Doron grieve but eventually get on with their lives...thinking him dead. But he's not...and Legolas grows to hate his own father as the pain consumes him. Final chapter now up
1. Prologue

**Title: Dol Guldur**

**Prologue**

"_Ada, ada did you see that?" the golden haired elfling laughed, pointing to the small, brightly coloured butterfly perched on a daisy. The adult elf laughed with pure joy at his tiny son's antics and then ran forth, grabbing the shrieking bundle of elfling and spinning him around. "Let me down ada", the child demanded to cover up his giggles as his father stopped his silliness; "Did you see that? It was so pretty, or maybe it was a girl. Ada, how do you know whether a butterfly is a male or female? I think it impolite to call 'it' an 'it' if it's a"._

_The adult elf laughed again and pecked his son's smooth cheek, effectively cutting through the child's babbling. "Aye my precious tithen lass, I did see your butterfly'. The adult elf gently placed the tiny child upon the ground. "Off you go, little whirlwind, to your nanneth. I love you". And then the child was off, stopping only to hug his ada's knees and tell him that he 'loved you to'._

I once knew happiness…and joy and…dare I say it? Love. However that was a long time ago, mayhap another lifetime and the happy events above certainly happened in a different lifetime to the one I live in now, mayhap to an entirely different person. I know not, down in the bowels of this hellish place there is no happiness…or joy…or…love. Even light shuns this place, a place where horrible sins are committed, refusing to give hope even to those of us who need it most.

My world consists only of pain; the tiny and very happy little elfling no longer exists, killed alongside my innocence. My body is shattered, my hair the no longer the vibrant gold my adar loved so, the coppery strands had turned a pure, snowy white; when it wasn't matted with my own blood and gore, because of the horrors I have experienced in this hellish nightmare. The only thing keeping me alive is my hate for the creatures who take such pleasure in evil…and my love? For adar. My skin feels like a constant bruise, overlaid with the stripes from frequent lashings and seemingly encrusted with blood.

My sense of honour and fair play have disappeared to, gone away with my innocence and probably never coming back. I know soon my memories shall dissolve with it, shadowed by the pain. That is what I fear most, not the pain or the permanently engraved hate my captors held for me and I for them, but the erasing of my memories. The killing of myself.

There is no bright, happy innocent golden haired elfling chasing a butterfly in the forest with his ada, there is only me. Are you still proud of me Adar? Of what I have become down here?

It's bend or be broken, kill or be killed, crack or shatter. And I have adapted accordingly.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**

**Warning- This is a short chapter**

The days are long, the nights even longer, full of shadows and drowned in tears of misery for the King of Mirkwood. It was understandable really, his beautiful wife, Ithilquendi ,light of his life and the second half of his soul…was dead, butchered by the twisted monsters known as Orcs on her way to Imaldris and left for the scavengers on the Redhorn pass. His youngest child, Legolas, had been too young to leave his nana and so, the cheerful golden haired sprite had gone with her. Legolas's body had never been found and Thranduil did not know whether to be relieved or not, who knew what horrors awaited that innocent and naïve child.

Far better for him to have perished although Thranduil's heart broke anew with the thought of his son's spirit extinguished. Thranduil sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around his chest, as if cold, his heart ached abominably, begging for the sweet release of death. And yet…he couldn't, not while there was still a chance of his son's return to safety, not while is other son, Doron , still drew breath. He just couldn't.

Sobs shook his frame, coming from deep inside and burning their way up from his soul and erupting violently from his mouth in a mixture of wails and sobs. The broken King cried for his dead wife and his presumably dead son. "Adar?" footsteps rang throughout the room as the owner of the voice crossed the threshold and wrapped their strong arms around the King. Golden hair obscured Thranduil's already blurry vision as his eldest, Doron, embraced his father. And together they wept, clutching each other as if the other were the only thing keeping their hearts beating.

"It's been a year Adar", Doron sobbed out, "And still every time I see a portrait of Nana and Legolas my heart bleeds anew".

"Tis painful to lose the ones who hold our hearts and yet…we must endure. They would want us happy, to find joy in the world as they have joy in Valinor. They are happy and safe in the halls of Mandos, and we must find it in our hearts to be happy also…but for now, we grieve".

Doron nodded in agreement and even managed a watery smile for his Adar before dissolving into what seemed an endless supply of sobs. His heart was a hole in his chest, empty and his soul screamed for release. He ignored it, Doron would not leave his Adar alone in the world.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Warning: There are only going to be a few chapters of Legolas's time in Dol guldur and so, as a result, I will tell you how much time has passed since the last chapter. The reason behind this is because I only want to give you snippets of how life was like for him before focusing on other parts.**

The darkness clung to my cell and attracted shadows like honey to flies; I lay in a corner, hugging my knees to my chest and back to the slimy, cold stone wall. Blood encrusted white hair hung over my sight, acting like a shield to those who wish to do me harm. Despite this my cold grey eyes still found a way to study the cold bars that made up the door in which my captors entered to torment me. I had learnt the hard way, over my three years of captivity, to always be prepared and never, ever take my eyes from that door.

I can barely remember my former life, just snippets of a warm smile and golden hair held back with a shiny silver circlet. Although one person do remember clearly is nana, the way her silver eyes sparkled when she smiled and dimples creased the corners of her cheeks. The way she tied up her golden hair with a scrap of leather, preferring comfort over style.

Oh yes, I remember nana.

And surprisingly; although Im certainly not complaining, I remember my name.

I am Legolas Greenleaf of the house of Oropher, son of Ithilquendi of Ossiriand and Thranduil of Doriath.

And I am afraid…

The door clunks and scrapes, snapping me out of reverie as it opens to reveal the dark form of an Orc. In the darkness I should not be able to see, much less define what I am seeing, but my night vision had sharpened and my senses heightened during my long years of captivity and after all, aren't Orcs just one more shade of black in my miserable existence?

The Orc shuffled over to me, stopping a few feet away from my spot on the floor, these Orcs had learnt the hard way not to approach me unless I was in irons after I had bitten one of my tormentor's fingers off.

The Orc threw a rind of crusty bread and a lump of mystery meat. "Eat up", the Orc growled in the black speech which I could unfortunately understand, "You're going to need all your strength for tonight". He then threw back his head and let loose a ringing howl of laughter, he turned around and existed my cell, shutting the door with a ring of finality.

I picked up my bread, shoving it all into my mouth in my haste to nourish myself. After I had finished my morsel I picked up the meat the orc had left, sniffed it, then decided I wasn't that desperate to eat it.

Throwing the raw chunk at the farthest corner of my cell I retreated back into my corner, eyes on the door.

They were always on the door.

They had to be.

The wall of pain had been fading lately, releasing its tether on my soul and allowing me to make out a few murky ideas on the other side. I put them together until they became words and the words became sentences, all flowing together like a…like a…

Like a song.

What the hell! I had nothing to lose and so I opened my mouth and let the words pour out, straight from the bottom of my soul.

'_Your home is behind, the world ahead,_

_And there are many paths to tread,_

_Through shadow, to the edge of night,_

_Until the stars are all alight,_

_Mist and shadow,_

_Cloud and shade,_

_All shall fade,_

_All shall fade'_

And when the last sweet notes died, I fancied that my cell didn't feel so dark, the shadows so long. And for the first time in many a long year…

I dared to hope.

XXX

The whip burned another stripe along my already aching back, making me grit my teeth to hold in a scream of agony. I _would _not give the orcs the satisfaction of hearing me give voice to my pain.

Another crack, another stripe of flesh ripped from my back for the orcs cruel and twisted sense of fun.

Another crack…

More pain for me.

The world spun before my eyes before blurring as my tear ducts started working, spilling down a cheek as the lash cracked against my bac, tearing through half healed bruises from frequent beatings.

And then the flogging stopped and I dared to hope that the orcs were capable of some form of mercy…until a rough hand smacked into my torn back, viciously rubbing salt into the wounds.

The corners of my vision darkened and my stomach heaved, I was vaguely aware of someone screaming and sobbing as waves of pain washed through my body, wave after wave crashing and receding, only when I sobbed out the only word I associated with comfort did I realise that it was I who was screaming.

"Ada!"

_Where are you?_

I closed my eyes and willed myself to go limp, hoping against reason that this would make the agony go away even though I knew hope didn't exist in this Valar forsaken place. My mind began the process of shutting down, unable to cope with such intense pain, but before vision deserted me I fancied I could see a woman, looking down on the proceedings with infinite sadness.

_Hold on child_

And then the darkness consumed me.

TBC

New chapter will be put up tomorrow if nothing goes wrong.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Thranduil walked through the Golden woods, feeling a heavy blanket of drowsiness settle over his senses. Making him, for the first time since his son and wife's death three years ago, feel a mediocre amount of peace. The king felt his facial features rearrange themselves into what could pass as a smile from a distance. At least he was trying.

The memories of Ithilquendi and Legolas didn't have the power to dissolve him into tears anymore; after all they were happy in Valinor. Thranduil smiled again, calling upon the memory of his beautiful wife trying not to giggle as she and their tiny son hung a bucket full of honey and feathers over the doorway as a special 'welcome back from patrol' for Doron.

The drowsiness clamped tighter around the Kings mind, blanketing his senses in a thick haze and making him realise it had been a long time since he had slept. King Thranduil came to the realisation that if he did not get any sleep soon, then his body would simply shut down at an inconvenient moment. And, King or not, there would be nothing he could do about it.

Making his way to the trunk of a mallorn tree he lied down amongst the trees massive roots, resting his golden head on the soft, pillowy moss growing at the tree's base. And there, nestled protectively in the trees heart, Thranduil slept.

_Ancient trees rose majestically on either side of the well trodden dirt path, forming a halo of green leafy canopy. Weak light filtered through the dense branches, falling upon the kings face as he stood in the middle of the path, wondering which way to go._

_He decided to go straight ahead, and as always in a dream, reached is destination abnormally quickly._

_A huge purple lake spread out across the horizon, surrounded by springy grass dotted with the occasional wild flower. There was a child playing in the water, splashing around although no sound escaped the boy's lips._

_It took Thranduil a moment to recognise him, but when he did joy lit up is whole being. "Legolas!"_

_The child turned around, making Thranduil's joy turn to horror and his blood to ice._

_Blood and grime encrusted the skin, dripping of the child's torn arms to mingle with the water, staining the pure waters. Legolas's eyes were bleak and filled with…nothing. They were empty._

"_Adar", he sobbed, "Where are you?"_

_Thranduil stumbled down to the boy, finally released of whatever spell held him stationary. He grabbed the child's…his child's shoulders. "Im right here my son", the King sobbed. How could this be? Legolas was in Valinor! Why did Lorien* torment him so? Legolas took no heed of his father's distress._

"_Where are you Adar?"_

Thranduil awoke with a jolt, torn from the nightmare he had been previously ensnared in by the maiden above who had so obviously been trying to wake him.

"So sorry", she smiled, "but your dreams did not sound to pleasant a place to linger".

Thranduil stared, transfixed by the silver haired beauty above him, the nightmare already fading from his mind as nightmares are often known to do. And after all, it wasn't possible, Legolas was safe in Valinor.

XXX

Black, there is black everywhere. Why is there black everywhere?

Oh that's right, Im unconscious. Again; that's alright, its better then the pain. Isn't it?

Well of course it is. Now what happened?

Ah, that's right a Warg tore up my arms. How thoughtful of it. I should be worried, but Im not, there is only blackness.

And then the blackness faded, replaced by a clam vista. Sunlight streamed from overhead, warming my face with its gentle caress. The grass was soft silk beneath my bare feet, swaying gently in the light breeze. The meadow gave way to the softest of sands encircling an eerily still lake of enormous proportions.

I raised my arms; confused that they were still torn up, after all this was my dream. Right? Oh well, at least the pain had gone, that was something to cherish, and I could wash off the worst of the gore in the overly large, purple puddle in front of me.

A sudden thought struck me, I was free! Free, free, free and out of the hell hole they called a tower. Throwing my head back I watched the clouds dance across the sky and then I laughed a good-to-honest laugh.

I was free!

I ran forward towards the lake, elation giving my feet wings so that I flew across the meadow, crashing into the cool waters.

I watched the crystal droplets fall towards the earth with startling swiftness and reached out to catch a tiny droplet, unable to let it fall the rest of the way.

After all, I knew what it was like to fall.

I cupped my hand, bringing it to my eye so I could study the tiny bead of crystalline water. _So fragile_, I mused in wonder, _and yet so strong separated as it was from the rest of the lake_.

A surge of an unknown emotion welled up inside my breast. My vision blurred and my breath hitched. I am like that tiny water droplet, alone and separated from the rest of the lake.

I slowly kneeled in the water, careful not to disturb the droplet cradled so trustingly in my hands. Opening my clasped finger I gazed one last time at the droplet before letting go, watching as it sank and melded with the lake, completing it.

A wave of happiness and peace washed over me and I frolicked in the waters with a care free abandon so seldom displayed before.

And then my peace vanished, shattered and left to scatter on the wind. Broken as soon as an awe struck voice behind me uttered a word. Just a word heaped with far reaching consequences then the speaker would only know of when the consequences had hit him.

Just one little word…

"Legolas!"

I turned, dread pooling in my gut and turning into a stone that settled on the bottom recesses, making my eyes go bleak for that voice was unknown to me, and yet so familiar all the same.

A tall, golden haired elf with noble features stood silently before me, horror and grief plastered on his face like a mask. A word came to mind at the moment our eyes met, along with a sentence uttered at moments of all too frequent despair. I knew who this person was, his very image the spectre that haunted me in the darkest corners of my mind. Oft veiled from me by darkness and shadow, yet always there, always lurking, always an ever present deity.

Sharp grief and anger warred inside me, battling for dominion over my emotions. One side seethed, _just who does he think he is? Blundering into my one moment of happiness and peace, so thoroughly shattering my haven! _The other half wanted to run up and hug the elder elf senseless.

Eventually the grief won out and I raised my tear filled gaze to rest on those blue orbs. "Adar", I sobbed, "Where are you?"

At that he gripped my shoulders, horror branding itself on his countenance and likewise imprinting itself on my mind. "Where are you Adar?"

_Where are you?_

_Why have you not come?_

_Do you still love me?_

The scene faded, along with the darkness. I looked around my cell, realising with a sense of sorrow that I was back. Someone, probably an orc, had bandaged my arms.

I didn't care.

There was no lake.

No sunlight.

No Adar…there never was.

And that was when I unclenched my fist, discovering a tiny crystal in the shape of a droplet of water. I clenched my hand to my heart, rocking back and forth as the tears came and washed away the dirt, though I dared not utter a sound.

Eventually I calmed enough to think rationally. If the orcs found the crystal on my person then they would takeit.

So they mustn't find it.

I pulled out a couple of strands of reasonably clean white hair, deftly weaving them into a pouch. Quickly I slipped the crystal inside and closed up the entrance. I wound the last two remaining hairs together, creating a reasonably thick string in which I connected to the puch. And then I tied my creation around my neck so that the pouch hung over my heart.

TBC

* Valar of dreams


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Italics are Legolas's POV_

XXX

Thranduil smiled as he secreted the small box into the wicker basket his wife, Ithilquendi, used to use when she took Legolas down on day trips to the forest river. It had been ten years to the day since his wife and son had perished along the Redhorn pass, and he could not help but think he had their approval in his endeavour.

After all Doron had wished him happiness, so why shouldn't they?

XXX

_I-I am…Legolas son of someone._

_I-I live, where do I live? Is my existence called living?_

_Now try again, remember, I am Legolas son of Ithilquendi and…_

_Who?_

_Who is my sire?_

_I press a disgustingly fragile hand upon the sack I had turned into clothing, feeling for the resilient and admittedly grubby little pouch hanging around my neck. Or more specifically the treasure secreted inside. It had always helped me remember before, so why should it not work now?_

_I reached out with a tendril of thought, seeking the battered soul my even more battered body shielded, searching for the bond that connected me to the one called Adar._

_No, there was nothing. No thread joining me to the other elf._

_Maybe he had forgotten me?_

XXX

The elleth's silvery hair cascaded down her back, standing out against the soft blue gown. A purple sash tied loosely around her waist hung dangling down her back. Warm, merry blue eyes danced under lush lashes as she took the gold ellon's hand. Encasing his large hand in her small, dainty fingers.

In short, Thranduil thought dazedly as he leant to kiss is beloved, Vanriel [fair garlanded maiden] was beautiful inside and out. A balm for his weary heart.

XXX

_Mayhap the elf called Adar didn't love me anymore? Mayhap he has forgotten about little me stuck at the arse end of the world before Mordor?_

_There is nothing inside my soul about this 'Adar' person. Nothing. There is only Nana, the pain and the lake._

_Oh there is also orcs, but strictly speaking they are in my mind, not my soul._

_Not yet._

XXX

"What is it meleth?" Vanriel asked, gently cupping Thranduil's chin. The two were lying down on the blanket, picnic basket forgotten for the moment. Thranduil sighed, his moment had come.

"Meleth", he began, sitting up to rummage through the basket.

XXX

_Where are you Adar?_

_Why have you forgotten me?_

_Why have you left me lying lost and alone, company to all those who dwell in the deep?_

XXX

Thranduil sat up, concealing his prize as he took the curious elleth's hand.

"I would ask you-

XXX

_Can you see me now?_

_Are you proud of what I have become?_

_I no longer care; the orcs tell me I am nobody. They are right._

_I am nobody._

XXX

-will you be my wife?"

Silence ruled the glade, not even the birds dared interrupt it. And then…

XXX

_I may be nobody, but you Adar are nothing. You have not come for me, have not held me, have failed to keep away the things that go bump in the night._

_I may be nobody, but you Adar are nothing to me…_

XXX

A joyful shout echoed throughout Mirkwood, followed by giggles and chuckles of ectasy.

XXX

…_And I hate you…_

**TBC**

Author's notes

Vanriel is the maiden who woke Thranduil in the previous chapter.

Sorry for the short chapter but it had to be done.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Doron discreetly waved his hand in front of his mouth, hiding a yawn as he listened to the ambassador drone on about…fishing. Next to him was an equally bored looking wizard by the name of…what was his name again? Anyhow it was not important. What was important was that he was here, at the white council, trying to persuade the 'wise' [that was in debate] that Dol Guldur needed to be wiped off the face of Arda. Doron had no idea how he was supposed to go about that, after all hadn't Thranduil failed three times to persuade the armies of Imaldris and Lothlorien to leave the safety there rings provided them. Oh yes, the wood elves knew exactly how the Noldor were protected, they were not stupid.

But apparently the wood elves were not important enough to be protected, left as they were in isolation as they fought their war against the shadow while elves like Elrond cowered behind his ring. Doron knew that if Mirkwood fell, so would all the other elven realms because, whether they liked it or not, Thranduil's army was the only thing separating the Necromancer from the rest of the world. They were a barrier, the last bastion, and if they didn't get help soon that bastion would be eradicated.

Only problem was that he had to convince these elves of that.

The representative from Mithlond finally concluded his speech, leaving all eyes on Doron._ Be brave_, he thought? _Be brave for Legolas. _Where had that thought come from? But nonetheless he stood up, squared his shoulders and began.

"We need aid", He said bluntly, staring at Elrond. "Dol Guldur is growing stronger by the day and our warriors are tiring".

Elrond frowned. "What makes you think we have the numbers to help combat the shadow…Prince Doron?"

Oh good you know my name.

He had only traded a sentence with the half elf and already Doron had had enough, "Have you seen what's happening out there? Have you even bothered to look? Are we so below you that you would deny us aid. What say you Elrond? What say you all? The Necromancer is on your doorstep and he is coming closer. Mirkwood has almost been defeated! We cannot keep fighting with so little soldiers; it is not uncommon for three elves to die for every patrol. We are at war!"

Unbelievable! How could these elves sentence his people to death? They are like children, spoiled children who condemn others to die just because of a misunderstanding! Well if these elves were going to behave like elflings then he would give them a tongue lashing to remember!

"We are at war!" He continued, icily staring down the Noldor, utterly furious with these so called 'wise elves'. "Are you so high and mighty to think that you will be safe cowering behind your rings of power?" he ignored someone's shocked gasp, "You have condemned my people to death each time you refuse our call for aid! For shame! You are not children…act like it. What say you Elrond, Galadriel? Will you help us?"

Galadriel looked thoughtfully at Doron. 'My apologies Prince", was that just him or did that sound respectful? "We were unaware of how dire the problem had become-"

"Why should we go to war", the oily voice of Curunir interrupted, "Sauron has never shown any interest in us".

The three turned to Elrond, who turned to Mithrandir. "What say you Mithrandir?"

The wizard looked thoughtful, and then. "Doron raises an excellent point. We should have acted years ago. The threat will soon enroach on the borders of Lothlorian and Imaldris, we must stop it before it does".

Unbelievable! And still they think only of themselves and containing the shadow to Mirkwood! But at least they were acting.

XXX

In the bowels of Dol Guldur a ray of light filtered through a crack in the walls, falling on the grimy face of one whom Doron called Brother.

And his time was running out.

TBC


	7. Chapter 6

**This chapter is rated M just to be safe because of a really small torture scene and gruesomeish battle scene. You have been warned! If you are young [ten or under], weak hearted, easily scared or have parents looking over your shoulder then there is a summery at the bottom of the page with the authors notes and explanations. This chapter has been written in third person to make it easier on me.**

**So sorry for not updating and I hope you enjoy this chapter [if you're reading it]**

**Chapter 6**

The sound of shouts and screams reverberated deep into the bowels of Dol Guldur. An elf, looking to be ten years from majority was restrained between two orcish generals as they pushed him up the stairs, following closely behind were ten other orcs, one carrying a torch. The elf really had no need for restraints, limp and weak as he was. Dirty white hair hung in tatters as it framed a hollow and weary face marred with bruises, remnants of vicious beatings. His clothes, if they could be called clothes, torn as they were and stained with blood from frequent lashings. The most noticeable feature, and perhaps the most chilling, was his eyes. Once silver, full of fire and spirit, had gone as dull, cold and black as the stones that had imprisoned him for thirty five years. Those were the eyes of someone dangling between the line dividing sanity from madness, and leaning ever slightly towards madness.

Legolas son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood had been broken…the once fiery spirit doused to a mere coal when the shadowy one striding ahead of the group had returned to his tower. Now Legolas remembered naught, not the sound of the wind in the trees or the kind smile framed by a golden halo. Not even the crystal hanging around his neck in its white cocoon, not even his name. The Legolas of old was gone, buried under what seemed an eternity of hideous tortures that defied description. What the necromancer had left was a shell, nothing less and nothing more, and yet the child still _breathed_. His heart was still beating inside his chest, and somewhere, deep inside the broken body, a cinder of a soul was waiting for a breath of hope.

Yet no hope existed here.

A powerful voice rang out through the darkness, seeming to shake the very foundations of the dark tower, making the orcs flinch and cower. "Come out Sauron!" The powerful voice went, "Face what thou hast reaped in thy quest of evil!"

The necromancer smirked before throwing open the doors to his keep, letting the light stream in.

The elf gasped as the light burned his darkness accustomed eyes, immediately shutting them in an effort to stop the sharp, searing pain. Yet as the suns caressed the face of one so long gone that others thought him in Mandos, a glimmer of hope wormed its way into the soul sheltered within.

XXX

Doron unsheathed his long knife and shoved it into the stomach of an Easterling, ignoring the hot entrails that spilled out to steam on the forest floor as he removed the blade to decapitate an orc. He wiped a hand over his eyes, ignoring the smear of gore, as he searched the writhing mass of bodies for his Adar, spotting him surrounded by several of the royal guard as they cleaved their way through the orcs.

Good, it would not do for his Adar to die and leave Doron and a pregnant Vanriel all alone.

An Imaldrin warrior screamed his agony as an orc literally ripped the elf's heart out with the cruel metal contraption the warriors of Mirkwood were so accustomed to. Doron grimaced and averted his eyes, continuing to defend himself and to kill as many orcs as he could. He ducked, barely avoiding decapitation, he swung his knife upwards, shoving it into his attackers, an orcs, ribs, releasing a spray of black blood to water the ground.

Mithrandir raised his staff, a brilliant light shot from the tip and into the air, startling both armies into halting their battle. "Come out Sauron!" he roared, startling the cowardly orcs to run for the safety the dark tower represented lest the wizards wrath fall upon there heads. "Face what thou hast reaped in thy quest of evil!"

Doron made his way over to his Adar in a kind of stupor, although he had enough presence of mind not to slip on the pools of blood dotted throughout the battlefield. We're really doing it, he thought. We're challenging the darklord.

"Adar", Doron began but got no further. Both elves turned and stared as the massive iron doors of Dol Guldur were thrown open and out strode the darkest elf either had seen. This of course was Sauron the deceiver, the necromancer and all that was evil and chaos. Following behind were what could pass as generals for orcs, although there was not much difference, draggin a pathetic bundle between them It was quite clearly an elf.

Doron felt the breath leave him as he beheld one who had been trapped and tormented in the bowels of the dark tower.

The Necromancer spoke then, addressing the army of elves. "Attack oh mighty woodland king and see your child slain before your very eyes".

Thranduil thrust his chin out in defiance while Doron stared at the elfling in disbelief. "That poor elf is no child of mine", Thranduil said calmly, "For my son was killed years ago and now resides in Mandos".

Doron thought that the Dark lord would flee now his bluff had been called. Therefore he was shocked when the evil lord through back his head and laughed. When he was done Sauron spoke once more. "Oh how stupid thou art, _King_ Thranduil", his voice was mocking in its deliverance and everyone save Mithrandir flinched "I present to you", he continued, "Legolas son of Thranduil whom my orcs captured and brought to this place".

One of the orcs following behind the generals was carrying a torch although none could fathom the use of it. Thranduil suddenly paled as he was faced by the realisation that the broken creature could indeed be the son he had thought to be dead for so many years. In that moment Thranduil remembered the dream he had had before he had been awoken by Vanriel.

Doron felt as though he had been crushed so great was his despair, even if Thranduil still haboured doubts born of denial, his eldest knew that the child was his brother. Felt it in the vey core of his being.

Sauron wrenched the child's head up, revealing the gaunt and bruised face for the inspection of all. "Do you not recognise your son, Thranduil?" he jeered and indeed the child was the very image, white hair aside, of the King's late wife.

Doron glanced at his father, sure that he would save the child now that he had been revealed as Legolas, but his father's face only held uncertainty.

Sauron gave a nasty smirk. "No words Elven King? Maybe this will help you decide". And with that Sauron grabbed Legolas's hand and thrust it into the fires of the torch. Legola scremed in agony, his body jerking as the skin blackened and began to peel. Doron closed his eyes as his stomach threatened to spill from his mouth; it was no use, as he could smell the cooking flesh from here. At last Sauron released the hand and the boy cradled it to his chest, sobbing and choking on his breath.

Doron turned pleading eyes to his father. "Adar, please", he begged.

Thranduil shuddered and opened his mouth to call a retreat, only to be stopped by a hand from Elrond. "You can not give up now, Thranduil", the Half elf said in a reasonable sounding tone.

"But my son-"

"If we let Dol Guldur stand then many shall suffer. Its for the good of the many, Thranduil".

Don't you mean for the good of your people you coward, Doron spat in his mind. You were never concerned for us until you learnt how close to breaking point we were. We Sylvan's have been fighting this war for millennium; a few more years won't hurt in the grand scheme of things. And besides, the elf up there is my little brother.

Thranduil shuddered again in visible anguish before giving a tiny nod. Elrond smiled and called the order to charge and Doron gave a soul shattering scream as an orc dragged his knife across his brothers pale throat, releasing an arcing spray of blood into the air.

"No!" Doron yelled and launched himself at the elf lord, "Curse you! He was my brother!" Elrond easily caught him since Doron's eyes were blinded by tears. Thranduil's eldest snarled and ripped away from the elf-lord, staggering through the battling Orcs and elves, heedless of Sauron's flight from Mithrandir. The whole world had narrowed down to Legolas lying crumpled on the ground, forgotten. Doron collapsed to his knees beside his brother and gathered the ridiculously small frame into his arms as he sobbed onto the cold chest. Doron avoided looking at the gaping slit in the child's throat and the blackened hand, something's should be avoided by grieving relatives.

"Oh Legolas", he sobbed.

_Ba-bump_

Doron started and pulled his head away, wondering if he had finally gone mad. But as he put is head to Legolas's chest again, hardly daring to hope, he realised he hadn't.

_Ba-bump_

Doron sat upright, making himself gaze at the dreadful wound. Valar the hadn't! Had they?

_Ba-bump_

The orc, bless his mindless numbskull and curse him to the void, had missed the jugular vein.

_Ba-bump_

Legolas was still alive.

Doron tore his tunic to shreds and twining the strips around the fragile neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding, all the while shouting for help. As he worked, Doron realised became aware of the steady rise and fall of Legolas's chest, chiding himself for missing it beforehand.

_Ba-bump_

A shadow fell across the brothers and Doron jerked his hand towards his knife only to relax as he became aware that it was no orcs, just Thranduil an Elrond.

Doron ignored them both, knowing another round of kinslaying would commence if they so much as _breathed_ too loud.

"He's alive", Thranduil breathed.

_Really? I hadn't noticed, thankyou for stating out the obvious now why don't you get lost? _Doron thought.

_Ba-bump_

Elrond knelt beside the prone form, not oblivious to Doron's bristling anger and protectiveness. "He needs healing", the half-elf explained and raised his hands in peace.

Doron nodded warily and made room for the half-elf. Elrond knew that Doron was watching his every move and if the elf perceived the slightest threat to his brother Elrond was under no doubts as to what Doron's dagger would be used for. Behind them Thranduil stood frozen in shock.

_Ba-bump_

Elrond nodded to Doron reassuringly before getting out his herbs and beginning to tend to his delicate patient, knowing that with every minute wasted Lgolas's chance of survival dwindled.

_Ba-bump_

**End part 1**

**Summary for chapter: Sauron uses Legolas as leverage against the attacking forces of Imaldris, Lothlorien and Mirkwood. Thranduil does not retreat and an orc cuts Legolas's throat. The orc misses Legolas's jugular vein and so he survives, but for how long?**

**Authors notes: And so ends part 1. Part 2 titled 'Bond of Brothers' will be posted whenever I get around to it, hopefully soon. Thankyou all for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Here is a little snippet of Bond of Brothers.**

Doron spun around and shoved Thranduil into a wall; holding is father there with one strong hand.

"What possessed you to say that to Legolas?" Doron spat.

Thranduil glowered at his son, incredulous at Doron's defiance. He struggled but with no small amount of shock realised his son was a fair bit stronger then he and that he was unable to free himself from Doron's iron grip.

"Don't you dare go near Legolas or I swear Adar, King or not, I will bring you before the Sylvan elders for trial", Doron continued, voice hard. "Stay away from me and mine brother and stick to your precious new women and son".

**Thanks all for reading and please review.**


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